Dark Ages
by Aurette
Summary: Chaos reigns after the entire world seems to be coming to an end, but hope arrives disguised as despair.  AU, M for reasons, HEA.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I don't know if anyone outside the U.S. knows, but the world was supposed to end last spring. You see, according to the leader of some obscure religious sect here in the States, May 21st was supposed to be the Rapture. We all knew this because this leader had his peeps donate their entire family savings so he could post billboards across the country telling us all to get ready. One of these handy hints was posted around the corner from my kid's school. Helpful, in so many, varied ways. This was it. The End Times. Yup. T'was. 6pm exactly. Well, not exactly, turns out when 6pm rolled around there was a bit of confusion about which Time Zone the Almighty was on.

Anyhoo, on the 21st, as I was sitting sipping my cocktails and waiting for my divine taxi ride to warmer climes—it was far too late for me to repent without it looking like the last ditch effort not to roast that it would have been—it occurred to me that this would totally suck for the Wizarding World. I mean, imagine it. You defeat Voldypants, only to have it all go tits up anyway.

This got me to thinking… and you know what happens when I do that.

I skipped the Rapture, since the Almighty gave it a pass as well, this time around, and went with something more scientific. This one is weird. I ain't gonna lie. It's out there.

**Not mine, no money**. Praise **Hebe GB** for the Britpick and an awesome existential transcontinental debate. Comma wrangling was brought to you by **Astopperindeath**, but I noodled, so don't give her static.

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><p>The whispers reached the back of the cave long before the hunters had entered the clearing.<p>

"Others! They've brought back others!"

Hermione was almost too hungry to care. She just wanted to start cooking. She stirred the fire, feeding it bits of dried gorse until it was hot enough to add peat. Hopefully, McLaggen had been successful. They hadn't been the last two times they'd gone out, and the community had been eating boiled potatoes and porridge for days.

"Maybe they're wizards," a voice said from near the entrance.

She heard a flurry of raised voices and turned, gathering her tattered robes about her. "Maire, watch the fire."

"Granger, you know you'll just get in trouble again."

Hermione looked back down at the older witch. "Just breathing gets me in trouble," she muttered.

Maire shook her head. "Breathing is a luxury with that one. If you keep refusing McLaggen, you might just stop one of these nights."

"He needs me."

"Nah, girl. He wants you; he doesn't need you. Don't get the two confused. He's already exploited your useful knowledge, and couldn't be arsed about the rest. Your mind isn't what he still keeps you around for."

"I still have a head full of things that he needs to know. He's just too stupid to use it."

"We all have a head full of useless knowledge now, lassie. None of it's worth a tinker's dam anymore."

The older woman's eyes glazed over as she turned and looked into the past. It was a common malady.

Hermione patted her, before hunching her shoulders and heading toward the mouth of the cave. She tripped over a pile of bedding, but caught herself. After that, carefully stepped around people's living areas, keeping her face away from the light of the torches that had been roughly hammered into the stonewalls.

Around her, her fellow survivors were tossing questions like confetti.

"Who are they? Muggles or proper folk?" called Jonah Twillings.

"Does it matter anymore?" snapped Mathew Malkin.

"It could one day. It can't stay like this _forever_."

"Keep dreaming. I just want food. And maybe some of those Muggle guns."

Hermione shook her head and stepped into the shadows beside the mouth of the cave.

From her vantage point, she could see McLaggen, strutting about as if he was the cock o' the walk.

Of course.

If he had found a peaceable group of people, he would need to assert himself right away. His two cronies, Jackman and Damien, stood off to the side with their thumbs hooked on their knife belts, smirking at the newcomers. They were even nastier than Cormac. She thought they'd shed their humanity long before the world had ended.

Arabus and Merna Tailor were walking Cormac's ponies off to the paddock. Hermione didn't see any game. Another useless hunt then.

Her eyes slid to the newcomers. A typical raggedy bunch, there appeared to be about twenty of them in ages raging from late twenties, to late sixties—if they were Muggle. They could be far older if they were wizards.

An older man with a ginger beard streaked with grey shuffled forward. "Please," he said. "We have skills! We're just tired of walking." His eyes took on the ubiquitous thousand-yard stare, as he stroked the mane of the shaggy pony he leaned against. "We've been walking forever."

His voice sounded worn and faded and familiar. Hermione peered at the tattered clothes he wore but couldn't tell a difference between the motley worn by Muggles these days, and the typical Wizarding garb that had seen better times.

She slipped out of the cave and crept closer, careful not to attract Cormac's attention.

Aside from their apparent headman, the newcomers had all collapsed to the ground. On closer inspection, she saw a high percentage of them appeared to exceed the normal levels of disassociation that affected so many in the years after the Cataclysm. Two of them were mumbling constantly, and three of them seemed to be asleep with their eyes open. One sat on a rock and stared at his feet, his body eerily still.

"Your people are worthless!" snapped Cormac. "I'm having a hard enough time feeding mine! I've no room for useless mouths. I already told you, you could stay the night in exchange for news, but come morning, you have to shove off."

"They're not worthless!" the man snapped with a bit more bite in his voice. "They're human beings!"

The vehemence in his voice sparked the final recognition, and Hermione found herself creeping forward despite herself. "Arthur?"

The man turned and looked at her, and then his face exploded with happiness. "Hermione!" He ran forward and enveloped her in a hug. "Oh, my dear girl! It's wonderful to see you! Are you alright? Is Ron with you? Harry? Who else is with you? Is Molly here? Have you seen Molly?"

His questions came too fast for her to do more than just cry and shake her head. "No. I had gone to Hogsmeade just before it happened," she said when he finally fell silent. "Who's with you?"

He sighed and hugged her hard before turning toward his group. "I was at St. Mungo's with George when it happened. He was getting a new ear. We took who we could, but most didn't survive that first year." He sighed. "Most didn't survive the escape from London." He waved to a couple sitting on the ground staring at everyone with no expression. "That's Alice and Frank Longbottom, Neville's parents. Over there is Daisy Goldstein, she's a nurse. You went to school with her brother. And we have Miriam Strout, she's a Healer." He gestured to the man sitting on the rock, now inspecting the sole of his boot. "And Severus, of course. He was there as well. I'm not sure you'd know the others."

Hermione hadn't recognized her old professor, although now that she knew who it was, it was obvious. His hair reached his elbows, still black and stringy, and still covering his features except for his large, hooked nose. He was dressed in a brown tweed waistcoat over a pale, long-sleeved, knitted cotton top. Despite the late summer warmth, he wore fingerless gloves and heavy woolen trousers of an indeterminate grey. The thick, Muggle-style lace up boots looked oddest of all.

She started forward but Mr. Weasley pulled her back. "Don't expect him to chat. He's not… well. None of us are, really."

She was about to reply when McLaggen interrupted. "Did you say _Longbottom?_" He squinted at the group. "What the hell did you bring me, Weasley? The entire Janus Thickey Ward?"

Arthur pushed Hermione to the side. "I brought you people, man. I've brought you _people!_"

"I _have_ people!" shouted Cormac. "I don't need more! Especially not halfwits and old folk!"

Arthur tried to stare him down, but wasn't alpha enough—nor violent enough—to win. "We need everyone," he said. "We've lost so many."

"Why?" spat Cormac. "We're all done for anyway!"

Arthur recoiled. "What are you saying?"

"Haven't you noticed? Or are you still too _honorable?_" He turned and gave an order to Jackman, his second-in-command. "Bring 'em all out!"

Soon enough, the entire tribe emptied out of the cave. The sixty-odd members of McLaggen's group arrayed themselves before the entrance.

Cormac turned back to Arthur. "Notice something odd? See anything missing?"

Arthur stared at them in confusion, before he turned his head toward Hermione in question.

"There aren't any babies," she whispered. "No one's become pregnant since it happened."

Understanding lit Arthur's face, and she hadn't thought it possible for him to look more broken. They both turned as Cormac came storming up and belted her across the face. She collapsed to the ground. She'd learned long ago that falling fast was the quickest way to end it. Cormac was only a true sadist with a stomach full of whisky.

"I wanted _him_ to figure it out!" he shouted at her. "The stupid bastard thought there was still _hope!_" He sneered down at her in disgust. "Get out of my sight."

He turned away and ordered his men to take the food Arthur's group had brought them before stalking back toward the cave. "Get out of my way!" he bellowed at his own people.

Arthur bent down and helped Hermione to her feet. "This doesn't mean there's no hope," he said quietly. "Just that there's a lot less."

She grimaced, working her jaw. "I don't know, Arthur. I don't really think there's much hope for any of us."

He sighed and headed off to help unpack his supplies from his ponies.

Hermione looked over at Snape. He'd pulled his boot off and was picking at the sole with a small knife. She peeked over her shoulder, but no one was looking at her anymore, so she headed off towards her old teacher.

He didn't look up when she approached.

"Hello, Professor." He didn't reply. In fact, he didn't seem to notice her at all. She squatted down on her haunches and looked at the boot in his hand. "What have you got there? A stone?"

He flipped the boot over and offered it to her without raising his face. She took it, and saw the long crack across the sole.

"I have some leather and a hot pot of glue. I might be able to fix it, if you like. Do you have another pair to wear?"

He reached down, deftly untied the other one, and handed it to her as well, before standing up and striding away in his socks. She watched, bemused, as he untied three rabbits from a tattered saddle and headed toward Arthur.

She shook her head. "Right, then. I'll just get right on that, shall I? And it's been a pleasure to see you again as well."

She gathered the pair of boots close and headed back to the cave.

:

Hermione, Maire, and Oona served up the thin, rabbit stew to eighty-two people. She filled two more bowls and headed over to where Arthur was sitting by the entrance of the crowded cave. She gave the first to Arthur and held the other one out to Snape, who sat on a large rock facing the wall. When he didn't respond, she bumped his shoulder with her elbow. He still didn't react, so she stepped in front of him and hunched down. Taking his hand, she wrapped it around the bowl. He looked up and blinked at her, before looking down to see what he held. He nodded and picked up the spoon.

"This is delicious," Arthur said, when she sat down next to him. She knew it for a lie—the stew tasted dreadful. "Are you not having any?"

"I've already had some," she replied, "thank you."

"Interesting dinnerware," he said, holding up the plain bowl.

She laughed. "I'm smart enough to figure out how to fire clay, but I'm pants at figuring out how to glaze the stuff."

"You did this?"

"In a manner of speaking. I knew what to do with the clay deposit we found a few miles from here. A little trial and error and we figured out who could work it best. It wasn't me."

"An excellent solution," he said. "Most people just loot the abandoned Muggle shopping areas."

"We did our fair share of that as well in the beginning. However, we eventually found it safer to move farther away from them and ended up having to do for ourselves. We send out parties every so often to nab things we need. Salt for instance—and pepper. We're out. That's why it tastes so bad."

Arthur smiled and shoveled a large spoonful into his mouth.

She let the conversation lapse so Arthur could eat. Snape had turned so he was half facing them, but seemed totally focused on his food.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked quietly.

"Snape? Nothing that isn't wrong with the rest of us," Arthur replied in a soft voice. "Just more so, if you get my meaning. "

"Does he speak?"

"He can. He's just run out of things to say. I haven't heard him say anything in a year."

Hermione blinked. "I see. For some reason, I had gathered that he was a bit simple now."

Arthur nodded. "He is and he isn't. His mind isn't broken, just battered. He's not like Frank and Alice. He's still aware most of the time. He hears us and knows what we're saying. It's just… He doesn't care, you see? He doesn't care about anything anymore. I think he just shuts his mind off intentionally somehow." Arthur shook his head. "Surely you can understand. You and the boys spent seven years trying to save the world, only to have it all end anyway. Severus spent twenty. The first year on the road with us, all he did was swear like a sailor. I think he just ran out of words."

Hermione nodded. "Now you make him sound far more rational than me. I still waste my breath on useless words."

Arthur scooped up the last bit of stew. "I never heard you utter a useless word, dear."

She smiled. "Snape has. Haven't you, Professor?" If Snape heard her, he didn't show it. She turned back to Arthur. "I used to drive him barking with my useless words. Now I just use them to make Cormac angry."

She looked across the cave to see her worthless leader lounging against a pile of cushions with Polly Valefar, his latest bed-warmer.

She shook away her homicidal thoughts. "I assume you came up through Hogsmeade, if you found us," she said.

"We did. It was…" his eyes went distant, "unpleasant."

She nodded. "Most of that happened in the days after." She shook her head. "That's where I was when the magic died. The local Muggles went spare when they suddenly had an entire village full of strange-looking people appear, complete with castle. They were already overwrought, so it didn't take much more before they started to burn the witches." She shook the images out of her eyes. "It was horrible. It's all horrible." She sighed and settled on the ground, resting her back against the shelf of rock.

There was an informal etiquette that had sprung up amongst the survivors. No one ever went into detail about what they had faced. Everyone's personal horror was already too much to bear, and it was considered rude to add to it.

"What's it like out there?" she asked. "I haven't ventured beyond our territory in a year."

Arthur's eyes grew hooded. "Bleak. Anarchy, mostly. The Muggles ran out of their precious petrol. They have as little fuel as we do now. Some places have erected windmills for power, but most of them have been destroyed by rivals. It's pure lunacy. And then there were all the guns! Who knew they had so many? Where did they all come from? It was like those stories of the American Wild West," he said with disgust.

"The army," Hermione answered. "Once their army fell apart, it seemed like everyone suddenly had a gun."

"Mercifully, most have run out of bullets."

"Only for certain types of guns," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It's all hunting rifles, black powder pistols and shotguns around here. They can't figure out how to purify their water, but they're clever enough to make ammunition."

Arthur sighed. "They've thrown away society completely. Anyone that tries to form some semblance of order just becomes a target for others with ambition or an axe to grind. They're far more likely to kill each other. They went on a rampage and killed all the foreigners they could catch. Especially Americans." He closed his eyes. "We have two that we hid. They'd got their hands on a set of pistols and were crack shots, the pair of them—until we ran out of bullets. Beau Raintree is our blacksmith now, and Heather Tippit is deadly with a bow. I don't let on that they're Muggles, and they changed their accents quickly." He grimaced. "Muggles. It seems silly to keep using that term. We're all squibs now."

He waved his spoon vaguely south. "There are boats running the channel now, but not many. Raiders, mostly. Apparently, France is worse off than we are."

Hermione twisted to look at him. "So it's true?"

"That it's the whole world? It is. However, no one I've run across has a clue what caused it. The most common explanation the Muggles have has to do with magnets of some sort. Electrical ones."

"Electromagnetic pulse," she corrected. "I'd assumed as much the first time I tried to use a compass. Then there were all the beached whales and the strange migratory patterns of the birds. The poles are gone. There's no north anymore. An EM pulse is the only thing I could think of to explain how the Muggles would have lost their technology at the same time we all lost our magic. I wish I knew why though. I assume some sort of weapon or perhaps an experiment that went wrong. I really have no idea."

"No one does. It's all speculation." Arthur set his bowl down on a rock and looked at her with sad eyes. "Is it true about the babies?"

She grimaced. "We've haven't got any younger than three now. Those women that were pregnant when it happened gave birth, but no one else has conceived. I guess we're all sterile. I don't know about Muggles, maybe they can have children. Cormac won't allow anyone to trade with the few that live in the area, and everyone hides their children when strangers approach."

"You do have some very unpleasant neighbors. We ran afoul of the village between here and Hogsmeade. They've formed a militia and have become very paranoid. They killed Arianna Livingston just to show us they meant business. Didn't even let us take her body." Arthur shook his head.

He looked over his shoulder at McLaggen's noisy group across the cavern. "Do you really think he'll make us leave in the morning?"

"He will, that or kill you. Would you really want to stay? You've seen what he's like. Living here is a form of hell."

Arthur frowned and looked across the cavern. "Can't you overthrow him? He's only one man."

She barked a bitter laugh. "You mean have a coup? Overthrow the power structure? Create a better way that will make people happier? Give them more control over their survival?"

"Exactly," he said.

She looked down at her feet. "They already had their revolution. He _is_ what they want."

"Oh," he said. "Who did they get rid of?"

Hermione raised her head and looked at him. "Me."

Snape snorted. Hermione turned her head to him. "I'm glad you are amused, Professor. It's probably easy for you to imagine what I was like. Demanding, insufferable, unyielding. I held them to certain tasks, gave them certain responsibilities, and meted out food demerits if they didn't comply. I was a tyrant."

She turned back to Arthur. "A tyrant was exactly what they needed in those first days. The tyrant stopped the riots in Hogsmeade and allowed people to withdraw with their possessions. The tyrant found a near bottomless supply of fresh water in an extensive cave system. The tyrant made them save some potatoes to plant in the spring because she knew that before the blight and famine, whole nations had survived on nearly nothing but. The tyrant forced them to observe proper sanitation, so we didn't make ourselves sick. The tyrant forced them to read books on survival that she'd managed to find in Muggle bookshops before they went completely insane and started to burn them. The tyrant made them learn how to tan hide, preserve fruits and vegetables, make rope…" She stared down at the floor of the cave. "The tyrant saved them. Even the ones that hated her and left still knew enough to make a go of it on their own. The tyrant was a creature of necessity.

"When we were over the bad days, they rebelled." She picked up a small stone and scratched at the floor with it. "Cormac came with more Wizarding folk after that first year. He'd also gone back to the school, thinking to find magic there. He picked up a few others that had gone there as well.

"He's managed to create quite the little cult of personality. He's all alpha male. The mighty hunter who scorns farming. I think he takes the caveman thing a little too much to heart. The people loved him and when he decided to take over, no one stepped forward to defend me. He graciously allowed me to choose between being banished with nothing but the clothes on my back, or to become one of his whores. I chose the former option and went and found an abandoned house a day's walk east."

She closed her eyes and shuddered, remembering how close she had come to starving to death.

"They paid a price for their stupidity." She tossed the stone down. "They ate all the chickens and too many of the sheep I had gathered. Sickness took the rest. They grew sloppy with their canning and several died from food poisoning. There were other disasters as well. They had to come and find me and beg me to come back. In a lesser role, mind. I was still _persona non grata_, but too valuable to get rid of. I've been little more than a scullery maid since."

She closed her eyes. "Not for much longer, though. I've taught them everything I can about basic survival. Cormac isn't interested in anything else I have to offer. Each day his hubris angers them a little more, and each day they mumble about how perhaps I wasn't so bad. My days are numbered. When Cormac decides I'm more trouble than I'm worth, he'll kill me. He kills everyone who's a threat. I've been trying to get him suspicious about his bodyguards, but he always was a bit thick."

She looked back up at Arthur. "You need to leave come morning. And you need to take me with you."

Arthur closed his eyes, and his face crumpled in misery. He shook his head. "Alright. If that is what you wish."

Hermione placed her hand on his knee. "Why would you want to stay? Your people won't be safe. Without the potatoes, we'd be dead. Blight will kill us. Cormac spends all his time trying to find food. He won't allow more mouths to feed with little return."

Arthur opened his eyes and the expression in them cut her to the quick. "I'm dying, Hermione. Strout says it's cancer. Whatever happened made many of us sick. I wanted to find my people a home before I grew too weak. I had hoped to find them some place where they could be useful. Severus here has never failed to return with game, and Alice and Frank are good with mundane repetitive tasks. They enjoy harvesting the wild grain we've been finding. They can do it for hours. All my people are useful in some way. Is there no way to make him see sense? Can't we appeal to his humanity? We've walked the length and breadth of this whole damnable island looking for our loved ones. When we didn't find any of them, we walked more, looking for a place we could call home. It's hell out there, and we're all tired. We're so… _tired_."

Defeated, Hermione squeezed his knee and turned her head to see Snape looking at her with an intense stare. She patted Arthur. "Alright. I have one card I can play. It will buy you some time. You'll need to show him how useful your people are before the novelty ends though. When it does, I won't be able to help you anymore."

Arthur's expression brightened. Her heart gave a sad thump to see how much like Ron he was. So willing to be happy. "Do you think there's a way?" He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. "If there is, I beg you to find it. Just tell me what I have to do."

She sighed. "All you have to do is keep a level head and stay out if his way."

He nodded enthusiastically.

"And you need to not be seen talking to me anymore." She ignored his confused expression and turned to Snape, who was still staring at her. She reached out and took the bowl from his hand. "I mended your boots, Professor. The glue will be set by morning. Sleep well. Both of you."

Hermione took the bowls back over to the cookpot, now filled with the rest of the dirty bowls, and helped Maire and Oona carry it outside and down to the river to scrub.

After they had banked the fire for the night, she made her way over to the rear wall, where she kept her personal things. With all the extra people, she had to step carefully over the bodies settling down to sleep on the floor. She had long ago grown used to the various grunting noises that went on in the night. Privacy was only ever an illusion when your neighbor could elbow you in the ribs in your sleep.

In the cold months, they all migrated together and slept in an enormous pile with the youngest in the middle, like penguins. On hot nights, they spread as far out as possible. The weather was starting to turn already, and there was a chill in the air at night.

Her things sat in an oddly large pool of clear space against the back curve of wall. The near-privacy was a symbol of her diminished status. No one wanted to be too close to her, for fear of earning Cormac's suspicion. Therefore, she was surprised when she heard a heavy thump nearby. She looked up to see Snape plucking apart the knots on his bedroll four feet away. She looked around until she found Arthur, tucking his people in for the night near the entrance to the cave.

She gave Snape a long look before she unrolled her own bedding and pulled off her shoes and socks. She stripped off her robes and shimmied out of her knickers, tossing the soiled clothes into a basket. She crawled into her pallet in her slip and rolled onto her side to watch him. He undressed down to his vest-top and pants, carefully folding everything into a pile. He was pale as a ghost, making the fine, black hair that grew in sparse patches more noticeable. His legs were long, thin, and well muscled from walking.

He rolled into his bedding and folded the small, flat pillow in half before settling his head down on it. Once he was comfortable, he lifted his eyes and met her stare.

He was still staring when she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

:

"Cormac, can I have a moment?"

"What do you want, Granger?"

She gritted her teeth at the snide tone in his voice. "I want you to consider letting Arthur Weasley's group join ours."

He barked a laugh and turned to Jackman and Damien, still lolling in their bedding, to catch their reaction. "Did you hear that? Granger wants me to do her a favor!" He turned back, fists on hips and chest puffed out, looking her up and down. "How much is the favor worth to you? You're talking about another twenty useless mouths to feed. That would have to be a hell of a payment on your part, now wouldn't it?"

"Only if you disregard their potential usefulness. Several of them have skills the community could use. Snape alone is a walking encyclopedia of healing plants, and laugh if you will, but even the Longbottoms have their purpose. They can perform repetitive tasks for hours without tiring or getting distracted."

He snorted. "You'd have to have a mind to get distracted, now wouldn't you?"

"Look, they have a Healer and a Nurse, who've both amassed an extensive knowledge of Muggle trauma care techniques. They even have a man that has taken up smithing. Their ponies have _shoes_, Cormac. You _must_ see the advantage here. With proper forethought, they could be just the thing to turn your little tribe from a group of survivors, into a community that could mean something."

She saw the spark of lust in his eye. Cormac fancied himself a king. Unfortunately, the spark died too soon. "What good will that do any of us? We're all doomed, Granger. What's the point in rebuilding a civilization if we're the last people left?"

She sighed. "Do you want to die, now? Or later? Those Muggles in the west are growing in number and becoming more violent. What happens if they come this way? There's safety in numbers!" Seeing her words bounce off, she dropped her voice and tried another tack. "The people grew tired of me, Cormac. They'll grow tired of you if you don't give them what they need. I see Jackman staring at your back already. To stay in power, you have to give them what they want as well as what they need. What they need is the lie that life might return to something familiar some day. Give them the trappings, and you can live out the last of all our days in relative comfort."

He stared about the cavern, slowly nodding his head. His eyes cut to hers, and she saw a spark of a different type of lust. "You'll have to earn their reprieve. Not all of them will be useful. I'll be carrying a lot of dead weight."

She scowled at him. "Fine. Just don't expect me to come to you, and don't expect me to enjoy it." She spun on her heels and stormed away. She made it exactly half the distance between him and Arthur before she was wrenched around by a hand on her arm.

"I didn't give you permission to walk away, Granger," he snarled. "You _will_ learn your place. You have twenty lives on your head. You might want to start making nice."

She lifted her head and stared back at him. "You haven't chased after me all this time because I'm nice, Cormac. Don't ask for what you don't really want. I agreed. More is beyond me, no matter who you kill."

She snatched her arm back and turned away.

"You all can stay," she said to Arthur, loud enough for the whole cave to hear. "Cormac has given his word."

She looked back over her shoulder at McLaggen's mottling face. "And I've given mine," she said quietly. She turned on her heel and headed toward the back to oversee the morning porridge.

A few minutes later, Maire elbowed her in the side and she looked up. Snape was approaching her with a small, wooden chest in his hands. She stood up and waited until he reached her and held the chest out.

"What's this?"

He didn't answer, he just shoved it at her with a scowl. She slipped the catch and opened it. Inside, the chest had been separated into two compartments. One was filled with salt, the other held peppercorns.

She looked up at him, closing the lid and taking the chest carefully. "This is a commentary on my cooking, isn't it?" she said with a smile.

He smirked at her and walked away.

"He looks funny without the billow," Oona said.

"He does, doesn't he?" Hermione agreed.

"The whole world lost its billow," Maire sighed.

:

Hermione kept to her cookpot for the rest of the day, staying out of trouble as much as possible. She even left it when the community began to line up to eat, so as not to draw attention to herself. She avoided Arthur and his people to give them a chance to settle in without her shadow tainting them.

The day went about as well as expected. There were some mutterings and a few pointed comments about the newcomers from Cormac's sycophants, but Cormac himself kept quiet.

She rolled out her bedding, quickly threw off her robes, and settled into the blankets early. Snape came a little while after, and she rolled away from him to give him a bit of privacy. The night before, she'd been inexcusably rude.

She was just drifting off when her first payment came due. Her eyes flew open when she felt Cormac pawing at her.

"You're mine, now, Granger," he said through a cloud of whisky fumes. "You better be worth the wait."

She sighed and rolled onto her back. "I'm not, I assure you," she replied, as he climbed under her blankets and started pulling at the hem of her slip.

He fumbled between her legs. "Bloody hell, you're dry as toast."

"You'd give your left nut for a nice piece of toast, and you know it," she snapped back.

Cormac laughed loud enough to attract the attention of the whole cave, as Hermione burned with shame.

"You're right, you know. That's what I like about you, Granger. You're always right."

"Even when I tell you you're a Neanderthal fuckwit?"

He climbed on top of her and pinned her down. "Give it up, Granger. You brainy types always did wish the handsome ones would notice them. Admit it. I've been making your knickers wet for two years now."

She wanted to spit on him—punch him in the face and storm off, like she had the first time he'd tried to climb into bed with her—but she couldn't. Lives were depending on her ability to lie back and think of England.

"Let's just get this over with, shall we? You're a little heavy."

He lightly slapped her on the cheek. "I can get a whole lot heavier, woman."

She rolled her eyes. "Cormac, you have ten willing women at your beck and call. What the hell do you want me for?"

He stroked the cheek he'd slapped. "I've always wanted you, Granger. You have a fire inside you. We could be good, you know. Together, we could rule the world. That's never been more true than in these times." He leaned down and kissed her neck. "You'll like me once you give me a chance." He squeezed her breast. "You never give me a chance."

"Did it never occur to you that perhaps you're simply not my type?"

He wriggled between her legs and began rubbing himself against her. "What is your type? I can be your type."

She shook her head. "I like a man who can think with something besides his prick, Cormac. That makes it rather hopeless for you, doesn't it?"

He started fumbling with his trousers. "Nah. I just need to get you to stop thinking so much."

_Good luck with that_, she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and let him have his way. Three minutes later she muttered, "Oh, for fuck's sake," and spat on her hand before slapping it between her legs to keep him from giving her a friction burn.

Cormac was a mystery to her. He'd been capable of simply taking what he'd wanted all along, and yet had persisted in his irrational prediction that she would eventually come to care for him. Even when he had taken her people away from her, he'd been arrogant enough to think she would see him as having rescued her from too much responsibility. He'd been utterly shocked when she'd walked out of the cave.

She could never understand why he didn't give up. She was perfectly aware that his posturing and strutting when he'd first shown up with his raggedy band of survivors had been to show off for her. In the two years since, she'd done nothing to encourage him—had actively scorned him, in fact—and yet, he'd still thought it was only a matter of time.

And it had been, hadn't it? Here he was, grunting away on top of her. Perhaps all things did come to he who waits.

"You're so tight," he rasped.

"That's not tight, you idiot, that's _dry_."

He chuckled and brought his mouth down to kiss her, and she twisted her head to the side. He started licking her ear instead.

He let out a girlish squeal, and she opened her eyes to roll them to the heavens.

That's when she saw Snape.

He was staring at her in fury, and she quailed under the weight of his angry gaze. He slowly lifted his hand up from his covers, holding his ebony wand.

Her eyes flew wide, and she quickly shook her head from side to side.

"Oh, you like that don't you?" McLaggen crooned, sticking his tongue in her ear.

She wanted to bang her head against the floor. Instead, she looked at Snape lying four feet away and mouthed, _'No!_'

The hand slipped back under the covers, but he continued to stare at her in anger.

Cormac squealed again, and collapsed on top of her. Was he done? Had he finished? She couldn't tell. Hopefully, he'd had a heart attack and died. That would be convenient.

"Was it good?" he whispered in her ear.

"What do you think?" she snapped back, pushing at him. "Get off me. Don't even think about sleeping here, that wasn't part of the bargain."

"Come on, Granger. Just a little cuddle."

"Go cuddle Polly," she hissed, digging her fingers into his stomach.

He kissed her cheek tenderly. "You're so beautiful, Hermione."

"Yes, thank you, and you're heavy. Move it."

He rolled off of her and pulled up his trousers. "The first time is always awkward," he said with confidence. "You'll like it next time." He scrubbed her hair with his hand, earning another glare and pushed up to his feet. "Until tomorrow night then," he said with a leer, before walking off.

She grabbed at a scrap of towel in her basket and furiously scrubbed at herself. She shoved her slip back down and then rolled onto her side and pointed her finger at Snape.

"Don't you dare do anything like that again!" she hissed. "Why the hell do you think he allowed you all to stay? Just prove you're useful before I start to bore him. I give it about two weeks before I have to start pretending I'm enjoying it, and you only get a week at the most after that." She didn't add that she was unlikely to live to see a fourth week.

Snape looked like he was chewing glass.

"It's too high a price," he hissed back in a ragged, hoarse voice before rolling away.

She was so shocked to hear his voice that she didn't have anything to say.

:

Snape was nowhere to be found when she woke up the next morning.

Arthur was, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her, now knowing what the price had been. He busied himself showing Alice and Frank how to twist reed fibers into twine.

She left him to his shame; she had no patience for it.

She didn't see Snape until she went to scrub out the morning dishes. She let the other women carry the clean bowls back into the cave and went over to where he was sitting on a rock downstream. His hair was still dripping, and his clothes from the day before were laid out on the grass, drying in the sun.

"I appreciated your anger last night," she said.

He didn't look up from the boot he held. He was inspecting her work. His pale feet practically gleamed in the sun where they stuck out from under his trousers.

She hunkered down, trying to see his face beyond the wall of dark hair. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, but you looked ridiculous. There isn't any magic anymore, Professor. You can't just wave a stick at someone and make them disappear."

She sighed at his lack of response. "Look, you can't go waving your wand around like a lunatic. Cormac likes to collect them. It's his little game of symbolic castration. He thrives on killing hope wherever he finds it."

Nothing. It was like she didn't exist.

She dragged her ragged silk kerchief off her head and scraped her hand through her curls.

"Arthur says you understand what I'm saying, so I'm going to just hope this gets through. Cormac never liked you, Professor. He would love to shame you. If you call attention to yourself, he will do just that. He's cruel and nasty when he feels threatened. Keep your foolish wand-waving to a minimum, all right? It's going to be hard enough keeping you alive without the lot of you running around acting daft."

She snapped out the bit of cloth and refolded it before tying it back over her hair. "Arthur also says you're good at tracking game. We always need more meat."

He raised his head and looked at her for the first time since he'd nearly stared holes into her the night before with his black eyes. She felt like a bug under glass. "What would you prefer?" he said in his distinctive voice.

She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "Anything you find will do. I only draw the line at cannibalism."

She stood up and brushed off her skirt, realizing she needed a bath as well. "Can I get you anything, Professor?"

"I have what I need." He pulled a clean pair of socks out of his pocket. "Lily, what happened to Potter?"

She went still and stared at him. "I'm not Lily."

He looked at her, befuddled.

"Which Potter are you talking about?" she asked. "James? Or Harry?"

His face mottled with an old rage. "The boy!" he snapped. "What happened to the _boy_?"

"I left him and Ron at Grimmauld Place that morning and Apparated to Hogsmeade. I never saw them again. I don't know what happened to them. I can only hope they escaped London before it burned." She watched his face flicker with several expressions, bewilderment still foremost. "If it helps, he wasn't a boy anymore. You completed your task, sir."

Her words left him looking lost and desolate. He grimaced, shaking his head. "I get confused…" he whispered.

She reached down and squeezed his shoulder. "We all do," she said quietly. He looked so sad that she added, "I can be Lily if you want. It doesn't matter to me."

He lifted his head and stared hard at her, making her wonder if she'd just made things worse.

She gave up and walked away.

:

Snape never came in for the evening meal. No one saw him until the next afternoon, when he walked into the cave with a red deer across his shoulders. He walked straight to the back of the cave and dropped the small doe at Hermione's feet. He turned and walked away without a word.

Hermione smiled at his retreating back as Maire and Oona trilled over it. They grabbed it by the hooves and began dragging it outside to dress. Hermione pushed another brick of peat into the fire and stood up to follow after them.

Outside, Maire was hauling the carcass up off the ground by a rope thrown over a tree branch. Oona was wide-eyed and reached for Hermione when she saw her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"There's no wound," the younger girl said in a hushed voice.

Maire whipped out her knife and slit the doe's throat, spilling blood into the bucket she'd kicked under it. "There is now," the older woman snapped.

Hermione blinked several times before she unsheathed her own knife. "I don't have time for nonsense. Let's get to work."

:

Snape went out three more times, always bringing back meat. One time a deer so large he'd had to tie it between two ponies, another time, a sheep. The rumors didn't gain energy until he brought down a boar. It hadn't been wild, just a feral pig, but a feral pig wasn't to be taken lightly.

Each time, there had been no wounds on the carcass.

The cavern had filled with the delicious aroma of roast pork and the whispers that Snape could still do magic. Hermione refused to allow herself to believe them.

Cormac hadn't been pleased at all. He was starting to see that he'd never had loyalty, only fear, and the favor of the people was shifting slowly on its unseen axis. He grew more needy as he pawed at her in the night.

Looking back, she realized that the length of Cormac's remaining life could have been measured by the distance between her bedding and Snape's. Each night, he would unroll his blankets a few inches closer, and each night, he would glare at her as Cormac rutted away.

She knew Cormac was growing tired of trying to tame the shrew but she couldn't seem to bring herself to start acting quite yet.

As the days spooled out, she grew increasingly waspish.

One morning she spied Snape on her way back from the river. She waved the other women back to the cave and stomped over to where he was sharpening his long knife on a stone.

"You're really not helping, you know. I mean, you are, obviously—the mighty hunter bit is pretty effective—but your glaring at me at night is getting more than a little annoying. You could at least glare at _him_ and not make me feel worse than I already do. If you recall, I wasn't exactly the school slag. This isn't easy for me, you know. I don't need your judgment."

He didn't respond, just kept scraping the blade across her nerves.

"And you can stop pretending that you actually use that. I know you're poisoning the animals somehow. Try not to poison any of us while you're at it."

He looked up at her and said, "She was afraid of the dark, you know. To survive, you must embrace it."

Hermione frowned at him. "What? What are you, an oracle now? Well, Sybil, thank you, very _much!_ "

She turned on her heel and stormed away.

:

That night, he didn't glare at her with his usual furious scowl…

…he stared at her with sadness instead.

:

* * *

><p>Told you it was weird… On to the next chap!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** It gets longer and weirder...

* * *

><p>The next night, Hermione put off going to bed. She scrubbed and washed the cauldron and banked the fire. She even did a count of the flatware and bowls.<p>

"You can't put it off, you know," Maire said quietly. "He's already giving you the eye."

"I know. I just wish more people would put their torches out. I'm tired of being watched."

Maire nodded understandingly. "You'd think with all the other doings at night, people would get bored already. But they've got bets riding on it."

"Bets?"

"Aye. Which one of you kills the other first. They've given up on you enjoying it."

Hermione winced. "Who'd you bet on?" she asked.

"Snape," Maire replied with a quiet chuckle. "He's been watching you."

Hermione scowled. "I know. It's really annoying. As if it's not bad enough that I have to put up with Cormac."

Maire cackled. "You mean he watches you then too?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Why? What are you talking about?"

The older woman clicked her teeth. "I would have thought it obvious. He won't have anything to do with anyone but Weasley and you."

"That's just because he doesn't really know anyone else."

"Half the people here were his students, and I went to school with him. He doesn't _want_ to know anyone else. Whenever he does seem to know what's going on around him, you can be sure he's watching you. Moreover, he _does_ tuck himself down next to you each night, doesn't he? Plenty of the women have been trying to make nice with him, even Oona. He just acts like he don't see them."

"He rarely acknowledges my existence either."

"Oh, he knows you exist, dear."

"He also calls me by the wrong name, Maire. It doesn't signify anything."

Maire cackled, reaching up, and grabbing the torch over their heads. "You're blind because you want to be," she said as she ground it into the bucket of sand on the floor. "Go to bed, Granger. If you make Cormac come get you, it will be worse for you in the long run."

Hermione nodded and headed over to her bedroll.

Snape was already asleep in his blankets a mere foot away; his hair fanned up away from his face. She noted the unkempt sideburns, contrasting with the sparsely stubbled jaw that showed he shaved daily. She mapped out the lines etched into a face that didn't relax even in sleep, only managed to look sadder.

She thought about moving her blankets farther away but didn't. He was vexing, to be sure, but there was something perversely comforting in his presence. Protective.

She grimaced. That last thought was pure projection. It had been a long time since she'd felt anything even vaguely like protection. Even before the Cataclysm, Hogwarts had only ever offered the illusion. Her years there had been full of peril, and she'd certainly paid the price. The years between their victory and the end of the world had been bitterly short and full of the chaos involved with trying to chart a course for her life. The years after had been nothing short of wrestling greased serpents for the lives of the people under her care.

Snape was now one of those she felt responsible for—another burden, as were the rest of Arthur's band—yet she took comfort in the fact that he was here. It added weight to her belief that perhaps her friends were still surviving out there somewhere. She reached out and tugged his blanket further over his shoulder.

She sighed and kicked off her shoes, shoving them against the wall before sitting down on her blankets. She peeled off her socks and realized she was out of clean ones. Laundry tomorrow, then.

She'd just settled her head on the pillow when Cormac came stumbling over, drunker than usual. She closed her eyes briefly before lifting her blankets. It was her first gesture of welcome since they'd started this farce. She could tell he was taken aback. The foul expression on his face cleared, and he met her eyes with an almost timid expression. She bit down a laugh. What a fool. Were all men this easy to play?

He crawled in and began pawing at her. "You want it, don't you?" he said. "I'd almost given up on you, you know."

She didn't answer, just spit in her hand and wiped it between her legs, before helping him with his trousers. He saw this act as added proof of her desire and the last of the anger he'd carried across the cave with him evaporated.

"Oh, yes…" he moaned, prodding at her.

She pulled her hand back and wiped it on his shirt. He'd have to navigate himself. She'd be damned if she'd touch him before she absolutely had to. Her last simulated act of acquiescence was to pull his head down and hold it next to hers when he finally managed to get where he wanted to go. It looked tender enough to pass muster, but in truth, she just didn't want to see his face. It was all she was capable of faking tonight.

She turned her head away from his and darted a look at Snape. His mouth was still slightly parted, with one, long-fingered hand peeking out from the boiled-wool blanket, relaxed in sleep. Seeing him sleeping, unaware of what was going on for the first time, brought an unexpected ache to her chest.

She found herself fighting back tears and bit her tongue to keep her focus.

She knew she was being ridiculous, but Snape being completely oblivious to her plight nearly broke her. She realized that his burning anger had been needed. Lying there, glaring daggers at her, he'd been freely expressing the rage she'd had to hide. Without it, she felt like a victim not a fighter.

She shuddered with revulsion as Cormac moaned. Of course, he misinterpreted it.

"You like it like that?" he whispered in her ear. "I knew you would come 'round. Bloody hell, you're so hot."

She stifled a sob, twisting her face away from him. She considered going for her knife and cutting his throat, but that would be foolish. His two stooges wouldn't hesitate to take over, and they were far more vicious and even less inclined to listen to reason.

"Oh, I see," he said. "You can't admit it yet." He chuckled. "Go on, keep your eyes closed and lie to yourself."

She closed her eyes, feeling utterly lost, and when Cormac dropped his head back to the make-shift pillow, she stretched her hand towards Snape, stopping short of touching him.

She knew it was a stupid gesture. He couldn't help. That first night he'd pulled his useless wand out, she'd soundly told him what he could do with it. Besides, he was more than a little mad. There was no telling what he would do, or even if he would do anything at all. This was the price she had willingly decided to pay to give Arthur some peace.

She pulled her hand back and nearly jumped when she felt a fold of cloth and warm fingers cover it. She opened her eyes and saw Snape looking at her through half-veiled lids. He let go briefly, to throw the corner of his blanket farther across her arm, before clasping her hand with his again.

She gave him a watery smile as his eyes slid closed. There was no sign at all that he was awake, only his thumb constantly stroking her knuckles under the blanket.

Even after McLaggen had finished and left, with a flurry of wet kisses on her forehead, she clung to Snape's hand under the blanket.

:

Hermione was down at the river, scrubbing at her laundry, when Jackman came up. He sat down on a rock next to her and dropped his arm around her shoulder.

"What the hell are you up to?" she snapped, shoving it off and jumping up.

"Come off it, Granger. Cormac told us he's finally broken you in. Everyone knows the Ice Princess is thawing." He stood up and came towards her. "I figured you might like a change of menu, so to speak."

She pulled out her knife and gripped it. "I'm going to do you a favor and pretend I didn't hear that, if you turn and walk away right now."

"You might want to listen to her, young man."

They both turned and looked at Arthur Weasley. He looked grey and winded, but was clutching a stout branch like a cudgel. Snape stood beyond his shoulder giving Jackman a stare that froze the blood.

Jackman looked around, but had no allies in the area. He spat on the ground and looked back at Hermione. "We'll finish this conversation another time," he said suggestively. "I can see your dance card is full."

He sauntered away, making a wide arc around Arthur and Snape.

When he was gone, she turned on them. "What do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

Arthur looked nonplussed. "I thought we were saving you from a nasty situation," he said with a small note of indignation, while Snape walked off towards the river.

"You're supposed to ingratiate yourself, not pick sides! If you try to defend me, you'll make enemies for your people."

Arthur sagged. "Hermione…" He paused and scrubbed his hand down his ashen face. "This isn't right. I've been talking to the others, and well, some of us are ready to leave. We've put you in an untenable position, and it's wrong. We can pack our things and leave tonight if you wish."

Hermione dropped her gaze to her feet. "And where would we go?"

"Anywhere has to be better."

She shook her head with little energy. "No. You were right the first time. There's nowhere for us out there. When I left the first time, I was close to dying from hunger. Leaving with you was a silly dream."

"I was _wrong_ the first time! Dead wrong."

"No, you weren't!" she snapped. "Think back, Arthur. Why were you so willing to stay? Why would you have walked all the way to the arse end of Scotland? Look at you. You're too sick to leave. You know more than anyone what's out there. Is this _really_ worse? How many of you were there when you escaped London? Strout told me it was nearly two hundred. You only had twenty left when you came here. I escaped Hogsmeade with three hundred. By the time we found these caves, there were only ninety of us left. We've lost more since then. Every time we send a party out to scavenge or hunt, there's no guarantee they will ever come back."

She sat back down on the rock, turning her head to see Snape picking her clothes out of the river. They'd started to drift away on the slow current. He was wading about, up to mid-thigh in the water, plucking up her socks.

"I appreciate it, Arthur. I really do. The gesture truly means something to me, but the roads are still full of fanatics and outlaws. This place may be hell, but you know as well as I that it's one of the lesser rings. It's hard to imagine us folk being afraid of Muggles with their silly black-powder guns, but it's that very incredulity that has got so many of us killed. What are we supposed to do with our collection of knives and swords and homemade crossbows?"

"They can't _all_ be crazy!" Arthur snapped.

"No, but they _are_ all scared. It's been less than four years since everyone's world went to hell. _Millions_ of people have died. Only those communities with a strong leader have survived. In an age of chaos, strong always means the one most willing to be brutal. That's why Cormac's in charge, and I'm not. The people feel safer with him. If I'd had a couple of bully boys to back me up, I'd still be in charge."

"But…"

It was plain from the way his voice trailed off, and the following silence, that he was out of words. He shook his head helplessly and threw his stick down.

"Go back to the cave, Arthur. Make your peace with Jackman. Tell him I tried to attack you too. Tell him whatever you need to. Just don't let the sun set while he holds a grudge."

Arthur gave her a look bleeding pain and turned away. She watched his dejected shuffle until he was out of sight around a bend.

Turning her head at the sound of a wet slap, she stared at the pile Snape had dropped into her reed basket. She looked at his sodden clothes and winced. Every time she started to think he wasn't as crazy as he seemed, he did something like walk out into the river fully clothed.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He didn't respond. He just sat down next to her on the rock and took her hand. He sat like that until the shadows grew long in the grass, while she cried against his damp shoulder.

Finally, she pulled away and scrubbed at her face.

"How do you do this?" he asked out of the blue.

She turned to him, not sure if he was all there or not, but his eyes were clear and bright as he looked at her.

"Do what?"

"How do you keep sane under all the weight."

She snorted. "They need me." She stood up and grabbed at her clothes. "Being needed is probably the only thing that keeps me sane, Snape."

He scowled out at the water. "Being needed drove me mad."

She slid a look at him. "You seem sane enough right now."

He stood up, leaving a wet patch on the rock. "I know. I have been for days. I find it rather vexing."

She gave forth a dark laugh as he turned and walked away.

:

"Oi! Shove off, you git!"

"Leave him. He probably doesn't understand you anyway. It's not worth your breath."

As if to prove her point, Snape unrolled his bedroll and sat down with his back to them to unlace his boots. His blankets overlapped the edge of hers.

Cormac reached across her and shoved at them in disgust. "He keeps getting closer. I expect tomorrow, he'll simply crawl in here with us. He was always creepy, but this is a little much, even for him."

"If you don't like it, you can always go find someone else's bed. I promise, I won't mind a bit."

He looked down at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. "After last night, I'm having trouble believing that." He rolled over onto her and began kissing her neck.

She closed her eyes and twisted her face away again, unable to bring herself to fake even the slightest enjoyment.

When she reached for Snape, his hand was waiting just beneath the edge of his blanket. He took hers and pulled it under, folding his warm fingers around it.

She closed her eyes and forced her concentration to narrow down to nothing but that hand. She felt the strength in it, the warmth, and the rough calluses that matched her own. Her fingers explored the tiny wiry hairs along the edge and the shockingly soft skin at the juncture of his hand and wrist.

When she felt his fingers slide along her own, a slight, faltering motion, the effect on her was electric.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she darted a look at him, but his face was as closed as his eyes.

She took a shaky breath and rubbed at the soft skin again. Her breath rushed out when she felt his hand stroke hers in response. His fingers slipped up along her palm and then intertwined with hers. She closed her own around his and lightly squeezed before relaxing her hand and exploring some more.

Their hands danced together, feeling, discovering, learning each other's contours. His other hand joined and he began to massage hers between them.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she started panting softly, her heart pounding in her chest.

McLaggen groaned. "Merlin, Granger. You just got so wet… Tell me the truth. Tell me you like it…."

Snape's eyes flew open, and he pinned Cormac with a furious stare.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "I do like it," she whispered to him.

Snape looked at her and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. He closed his eyes and pulled her hand further under his blanket so he could press it against his chest over his heart. Spreading her hand, she willed him to understand her silent acceptance of his offering. Her eyes filled with tears of a different salt, as she felt the pounding beat under her palm.

She slid her hand up along his body and under his neck to cup his jaw. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her wrist, and she moaned softly.

Cormac groaned and made to push himself up, but she wrapped her other hand around his neck and pulled him back down, pinning him.

It occurred to her that the situation was more than a little bizarre. Snape was making love to her hand while Cormac was shagging her. But life had grown bizarre ages ago. Normal was a highly unstable concept.

She brushed his lips with her thumb, and he opened his mouth and sucked on it.

"_Ohhh_."

"Yes, Granger, that's it. Let go," crooned McLaggen. "Oh, gods, you feel so good…"

Hermione ignored him. He didn't exist in this moment. Here, there was only her and dark eyes staring at her with naked desire. She swallowed thickly and stroked his face.

There was little warning before Cormac came with a grunt, cursing himself for his lack of control and blaming it on her. She snatched her hand back from Snape and started pushing at him.

"Come on, Granger. Let me stay. You know you liked it."

"You keep telling yourself that and maybe one day it will be true," she hissed. "Get off me!"

Cormac rolled off, obviously confused and gave her a hurt look. She rolled her eyes and reached into her clothing basket for a flannel and began scrubbing between her legs before he'd even got his trousers back up. He jumped to his feet and stormed off, nearly stepping on several people along the way.

She threw the cloth away from her and dropped back down onto her blankets, trying to take a few moments to calm herself and collect her thoughts. It didn't work. When she turned her head toward Snape, he lifted up his blanket in invitation, and she nearly flew under it.

He pulled her against his chest and attacked her lips, kissing her greedily from her mouth down to her collarbone. She clung to him by grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and he backed away long enough to pull it off. She moaned quietly as her hands encountered his skin.

He slid his hands down her thighs and pulled up her slip, and within moments they were both naked. Reaching down, she clasped her hands around his sex, capturing his mouth again and kissing him hungrily. He let out a shuddering sigh as she guided him into position and pushed inside with a ragged breath.

When she was full of him, he stopped and lifted up far enough to look into her eyes. His hand stroked a few wayward strands of her hair out of the way before he leaned back down and kissed her gently. She closed her eyes, parted her lips under his sweet kiss, and let the rest of the world disappear.

When she opened her eyes again, they were both sweat-slick and panting, wrapped around each other in sated need. She turned her head and kissed his jaw. He nuzzled his nose in her hair before pressing his mouth to her temple

A dozen feet away, a dying torch spat its last bit of resin, briefly illuminating Cormac's murderous stare.

Hermione set her jaw defiantly as she slowly unwrapped her legs from around Snape's waist. She curled herself against him, as he draped his blanket around her shoulder possessively and dropped a last kiss onto her head. With a quick tug, the blanket blotted out the sight of McLaggen.

:

Hermione had bitten her lip to bleeding pulp by the time the other shoe dropped in the mid-morning.

Her breakfast had long since turned into a hard lump in her belly as she'd berated herself for her stupidity. It hadn't been sleeping with Snape—that has been glorious—it had been being so foolishly open about it.

She'd slipped out of his arms in the early morning hours and set about making the morning meal. He'd given her a small smile when he'd handed her his bowl to fill, but other than that, he'd done nothing but sit on a rock and sharpen his hunting knife as Cormac stared daggers into his back.

Every reproachful look from Moira or Arthur felt like a blow to the gut.

By the time Cormac had swaggered up to Snape with Jackman and Damien at his sides, Hermione was close to throwing up.

She jumped to her feet, despite Moira and Oona's attempts to drag her back down.

"Snape, my good fellow!" said Cormac with false joviality. "I've been thinking. Since you're obviously the best hunter here, I thought it would serve the interests of our happy little family if you showed my boys here a few tricks. After all, since we have so many more mouths to feed, we need to hone a few skills, don't we? What do you say?" The false smile dropped and Cormac's face was a mask of threat. "We need meat. It's time to earn your keep."

Snape didn't respond. He just checked the edge of his blade and sheathed it. He stood and walked over to his bedroll, snatching it up, along with his small pack, and slinging them over his shoulder. He turned and gave Hermione a steady look, before walking back past McLaggen and his stooges and out of the cave.

The silence he left in his wake was oppressive.

"Well? Don't just stand there. Go after him!"

Jackman and Damien scrambled to grab their gear and follow.

Cormac turned and gave Hermione a hideous smile, before he grabbed Polly Valefar's elbow and dragged the giggling fool over towards his bedding.

Moira grabbed at her hand and tugged her back down. "I'm sorry, lassie," she said softly. "He was a good man, to be sure."

Hermione dropped her head in her hands and started to cry.

:

By the evening meal, she couldn't take the tension anymore. She let Oona and Moira serve, and went to pack her things.

She was halfway to the entrance of the cave when Cormac stopped her.

"Leaving, Granger?" he called to her. "What about the people you hoped to protect?"

She turned to see him standing slightly behind Alice Longbottom, who was smiling at her spoon. She sighed, heavy with loss and defeat. "Cormac, I don't—_DON'T!_"

There was a sickening scrape of metal against bone as Alice gave a little surprised cry. Her eyes rolled up, and she sagged to the floor. Cormac gripped his knife and let her weight pull it out as she fell.

A woman screamed and several of the younger children began to cry.

"You bastard!" Hermione dropped her things to the floor and ran to Alice.

Arthur got there before her but jumped away as Cormac slashed his bloody knife at him.

"How could you?" Hermione sank to her knees beside Neville's mother.

Cormac smirked down at her. "Honestly? It was easy. She didn't care. She probably doesn't even know she's dead."

Hermione pulled the woman into her lap. "That would be because she's not dead yet, you psychotic bastard!"

Miriam Strout stepped over and scooped her arms under Alice, dragging her out of the way as Hermione came back to her feet.

"You're making a dangerous mistake, Cormac."

"Am I? And what would that be? The days are growing colder, or did you forget that fact? We're going to be short on food soon."

"If we are, it's because you just stabbed one of our best harvesters, you arsehole. And Snape? He was our best hunter! Do you really think you're doing anyone a favor by limiting our resources? Do you really think anyone here is stupid enough to believe you're doing this for them? Is sleeping with me really worth risking everyone's lives? Just how sick are you?"

She spun around and stared at the rest of the people in the cave. "Is he still the better option? Do you all really want to live this way?"

Mutters rippled around the cavern and the tension grew.

Cormac's eyes widened a little as people began to shuffle forward. He spun in a circle, spreading his arms wide. "You don't like me? Then do something about it! See if Granger and her foolish committees can save you from the Muggles when they get here. Oh! Didn't you know?" He dropped his arms. "The same ones that sacked Hogsmeade have joined up with the ones just west of our territory. There's easily five hundred of them now, and they have guns. Why do you think game has been so scarce? It's only a matter of time before they come this way. Probably sometime this winter, and then what will happen to you?

"Are you going to exile your only fighters?"

Hermione's heart sank as she saw the fear return to the people's eyes. She could measure her loss in the number that took a step back and looked away from her in disgrace.

She hung her head. "Let me go," she said quietly.

He reached out and pinched her chin painfully. "Leave… and another one will die," he spat.

"You're mad," she hissed.

"We're all mad, Granger," he said in a soft voice. "Even you. After all, you're the one that slept with the greasy git. How sick is that? The man's insane." He wrenched her face to the side as he let go. "You brought this on yourself."

"He's saner than you," she snapped back. Turning away, she went and gathered her belongings from the floor and headed toward the back of the cave.

When Cormac came to her that night, it was only to beat her viciously and leave her weeping as quietly as she could. Arthur came and sat on a rock by her bed and kept watch for the rest of the night.

:

The next day, Hermione kept vigil by Alice, mopping her fevered face with a cool cloth as she lay dying on a pallet near the entrance to the cave. The only people who would come near were Strout, Arthur, and Frank Longbottom, who sat next to his wife, because he'd always sat next to his wife.

Strout had given up somewhere in the early hours of the morning. Cormac had punctured a lung, and partially severed Alice's spine. Without magic, there was nothing anyone could do. Instead, the Healer had taped up Hermione's ribs and splinted her wrist.

Arthur sat next to Frank, looking nearly as lost, with tears sliding down his face. He constantly looked around and shook his head.

It was past noon when Alice let out a bubbling gurgle and stopped breathing. Strout said a few words of quiet blessing before she closed the dead woman's eyes.

"It could have gone on a lot longer," she said quietly.

Hermione nodded stiffly and started to cry. "It didn't have to happen at all," she whispered.

Strout shook her head. "I think it was inevitable. He's mad as a hatter, that one. We need to leave. All of us. Before his bully boys get back."

"Agreed," said Arthur quietly.

Miriam stripped away the top blanket and pulled the bottom sheet up around the body. She pulled a needle and some string out of her pocket, obviously prepared for this, and began to quickly stitch the sheet onto a shroud.

Hermione wiped at the blood that had leaked from the dead woman's mouth and tried to arrange her grey hair before folding the sheet over her face.

The sound of hooves preceded the shadow that blocked out the light from the cave entrance.

She turned to see Snape holding a pony's lead, a wild pig tied to its back.

She let out a weak cry and then closed her hands over her swollen lips to block anymore sound from escaping her mouth.

His eyes narrowed as he saw her, and she watched as he took in the tableau before him.

"Where are my _men?_" shouted Cormac, walking up with his hand on his knife.

"Did you do this?" Snape asked in a quiet voice. His arm made a sweeping gesture that took in Hermione's face, as well as Alice's body.

If Cormac was surprised to hear Snape speak, he didn't show it. "Answer my question!"

"He did," Arthur said to Snape, rising up and setting his shoulders. "Hermione tried to go after you."

Snape dropped the pony's lead and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

There was a moment's shocked silence, and then Hermione winced as McLaggen began to laugh. He drew his knife from its sheath.

"Oh, this is rich, Professor," he said with a sneer. He turned to Hermione. "Take a good look at your lover, Granger. _This_ is the idiot you chose?"

Snape raised his wand and aimed it, not at Cormac, but at Alice. _"__Veni__kython. Imperious!__"_

The room erupted in shouts and gasps as red light shot out of Snape's wand.

Strout threw herself to the side, and Hermione scrambled back as Alice sat up. The sheet fell away, and when the corpse opened its eyes, Hermione almost vomited. They were on fire. The cavern filled with the stench of burning sulfur from the smoke and flame belching from the eye sockets.

The pony let out a terrified squeal, but didn't bolt. Hermione realized Snape held it in thrall as well.

The thing Snape had called forth clambered to its feet, gaining more motor control as it stepped out of the makeshift shroud and kicked it away. People began screaming as it turned toward Cormac and lifted its arms, hands curled into claws.

Cormac stepped back and the thing followed. He tripped over a stone and reached out, grabbing Polly to right himself. As Snape's creature drew closer, he pulled Polly in front of him and pushed her forward.

She had the good sense to faint.

Cormac backed farther away, making a quick grab at a child. He held the Twillings' boy by his hair and set his knife to his throat. "Call it off, Snape, or Kevin here pays the price as well."

Snape flicked his wrist, and the creature shot forward, turning into a blur of movement. There was a high-pitched scream and the sound of cracking bone.

McLaggen continued to scream as the thing that was not Alice Longbottom dangled him off the floor by the arms pinned behind his back. His elbows were touching in a way that shouldn't have been physically possible.

The boy screamed as he raced to his mother and buried his face in her skirt.

"Bring him to me," Snape said in a cruel voice.

Cormac shrieked as the creature set him down and shoved him forward by his arms, pushing him across the floor until he was face to face with Snape.

"How—?" It was the only word Cormac could spit out through the pain.

"_How?_" bit out Snape. "Surely, even you remember your schooling, McLaggen. Although, you never were a particularly _bright_ student, were you?" He sneered and leaned closer until his nose nearly brushed McLaggen's face. "Magic is dependent on nature. The time and tides. The seasons and phases of the moon. The movements of the planets and stars. The ley lines and epicenters. The magnetic tides of the earth.

"All magic, that is, _except one_."

"Dark magic," Hermione whispered. "Oh, gods. No wonder you tried to retreat into madness."

Snape didn't look at her, but his face turned the color of shame. His scowl grew terrifying, and Cormac screamed as the creature twisted his arms until they popped out of their sockets.

"Severus, don't," said Arthur in a gentle voice. "There are children here."

Snape flicked his eyes over at him, and then flicked his wand. "_Finite_."

Cormac cried out as the corpse behind him let go and collapsed to the ground with a sickening thud. He moaned in pain, hunching down to the ground with his useless arms dangling.

"_Avada Kedavra_." Snape's words were spoken quietly, but the flash of green light that enveloped McLaggen was like a shout. Cormac dropped to the floor dead with his eyes widened in surprise.

Snape turned and gently lifted Hermione up from the floor. He didn't look at her as he held her good wrist lightly and led her out of the cave.

She followed him in silence down to the rock by the river where they did their laundry. When they reached it, he spun around and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her tighter than was comfortable, but she refused to show it. She held his trembling body and pressed her face to his neck as he clung to her until his heart stopped banging against her chest. Eventually, he dragging in a deep breath and blew it out, as he sagged down onto the rock and pulled her down with him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be. He needed to die. He was too dangerous to let live. I assume Jackman and Damien met a similar fate?"

He nodded. "I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry because I can't heal you."

"Oh." She leaned against him. "I know that. Dark Magic is the antithesis of healing, isn't it? Because it works _against_ nature. Don't worry, I'll heal in time."

Snape nodded and pulled her against him. He loosened his arm when she hissed, sliding his hand up and feeling the wrappings on her ribs. He ground his teeth together audibly.

She shushed him, stroking her hand against his knuckles.

"Tell me, Severus. Tell me everything."

He sighed, and she felt a shudder run through his frame. "The world didn't end, Granger. It's just… resetting itself. It's happened before. Many times over the course of the earth's history. However, none of the events were ever manmade before."

"What do you mean? What caused it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, honestly. I assume some war not big enough for us to have heard about. Whatever happened triggered the polarity of the earth to undergo a shift. An excursion. Perhaps it even instigated a flip, wherein north becomes south. It will stop. Think of it as banging the bottom of a pot full of water. Eventually the water will calm."

"You mean magic isn't gone?"

He shook his head. "Magic is still there. It's just greatly reduced. The only places you can still feel it are the epicenters. The grottos and springs. The places where the elder gods were worshipped. But it's barely useable. Just scrapings, really. The magical creatures burrowed into the earth to sleep, even the bloody goblins. It's instinct for them."

Hermione nodded her head. "That's why Minerva insisted on taking the children into the Forbidden Forest, isn't it?"

"Did she?" He closed his eyes and sighed. "I feared they were all dead. We went to the school…"

She squeezed his hand. "I tried to force her to come with us, but she would have none of it. The only one from the school that the Muggles caught was Pomona Sprout. The rest of the staff are with the students. If any of them are still alive."

He squeezed her hand again.

"When will the magic come back?" she asked.

"That depends on the earth. In the past, it's taken anywhere from a year, to a thousand years for the poles to reset."

"When was the last time?"

"In 392 AD."

"What happened?"

"From what I remember reading, the same thing, only the Muggles were far less affected by what was going on. Wizards panicked, wards and enchantments fell, and Muggles took the opportunity to take revenge on the people that had oppressed them. The only wizards that had any power were madmen and murderers. Chaos reigned for differing amounts of time in different parts of the world. Here, it lasted for over a hundred years until one wizard found the fortitude to use Dark Magic with restraint. He managed to defeat the other wizards, cobble together a manageable Muggle kingdom, and restore something resembling order by putting a Muggle in charge of the whole lot. Then he fucked off into history."

Hermione felt her heart start to beat with more hope than she'd felt in years. "How? How did he make the Muggles trust him? How did he get them to follow him with only Dark Magic?"

Snape gave her a look filled with disappointment. He shifted away from her and drew his knife. Raising one eyebrow, he made the knife flare red and plunged it into the rock between them. He left it quivering in the stone.

Hermione's eyebrows jumped up to her hairline. "You must be joking."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Hardly."

"But it doesn't say that in any of the books! I've read the histories!"

"All of them?" he said in a snide voice. "Congratulations, that's a remarkable feat. Especially considering a large chunk of it has always been kept secret. It was deemed too destabilizing to let people know that our powers could be snuffed like a candle at any moment and the only useful magic was the type preferred by sociopaths."

She saw the pain in his eyes and hugged his arm closer. "You're not a sociopath, Severus."

"I'm not capable of that much restraint, either, Hermione. The power is addictive. It takes all of my energy to fight the lure. It's full and ripe and there for the taking, when everything else is gone. But it can't be used for anything useful. I've had to watch people die because I was too unstable to risk defending them and turning into a monster. I'm not all that sane now. "

She grimaced at the desolation on his face and stroked her hand across his shoulder.

"Hermione, until you, I had lost all compassion. Even my restraint was more from a sense of duty than because I cared about the damned world. I clung to Arthur like a barnacle because he had enough compassion for all of us. But, he's dying, and I can't do a thing about it. Time was I could brew a potion, and he'd be right as rain. Now?" He shook his head in disgust. "I almost hate you because you made me care again. I'm not strong enough to shoulder this burden."

"You don't have to be," she whispered, but he pushed her words aside with a wave of his hand.

"You watch, when we go back into that cave, they will all be clamoring for me to teach it to them, ignoring years of fearing the Dark Lord and his followers. What am I to do? Give them hope? Teach them how to embrace evil just a little bit so they can use it? Then what? They'll want me to show them just enough so they can defend themselves in this world we live in, but it wouldn't stop there. Each of them holds the potential to become seduced and thoroughly corrupted. Each person in there has a reason to hate. I'll have unleashed a new Dark Age on the world that will take a thousand years to crawl back out of.

"As it stands, the Muggles will sort themselves out in another ten to fifteen years. Maps will have new borders, but they haven't lost so much knowledge that they can't recover it all in time. The only question is whether or not enough of our people will still be alive by then to be able to restore the population." He shook his head. "Even if I did chose to teach them the Dark Arts, it would take years before one of them could wield the power. I'm not sure we have years left. Muggles have come close to exterminating us twice now. Can we survive a third time?"

She nodded her head. "Yes. I'm living proof. There will always be Muggleborns." Her face fell. "Wait. What about the babies? Why aren't there any babies?"

He smiled and stroked her face. "That will change as well. It's only affecting the magical folk. It's not uncommon for women to become infertile during famine. This is similar. Your body will adjust to the shock eventually."

She held his hand to her cheek. "Good."

She threaded her fingers through his and dropped them to her lap, wrapping her other hand around them as if his hand were precious.

"Why me?" she said quietly, not looking at him.

He took some time before answering her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I think because you _didn't_ need me. You were so strong. You had done so much for the people around you without your powers, while I had done nothing with all of mine but mesmerize animals and kill them when they were convinced I was safe."

"You should have hidden your traces better. They all started to suspect you when the game returned with no wounds…"

"I was beyond giving a damn."

He sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Do you want to know why I was in St. Mungo's when everything fell apart? I was being treated for depression." He gave a dark, terrible laugh. "I was having trouble dealing with everything after the war. Minerva had finally convinced me that perhaps someone there could help."

He looked away into the past. "That first night, when you told Arthur what you had built and what you had lost, I was astounded. You seemed so unbelievably strong, when I had been so weak. When I looked at you again, the next day, you seemed incredibly fragile. Small. When I understood the Faustian pact you had made to give us a home…"

He shrugged. "You puzzled me. Thinking about the puzzle distracted me from the fog that I had found preferable to reality. I felt like perhaps I might serve a purpose again. I wanted to help you. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to take your pain into myself."

He pulled his hand away and cupped her cheek gently. "Somewhere along the way I realized I just wanted _you_."

She sighed, luxuriating in the first feelings of contentment she'd felt in years. "Severus, I'll make a deal with you."

He stiffened and pulled his hand away.

"No! Not like Cormac!" She grimaced. "Never again." She reached up and took his hand, pulling it back against her cheek. "I'll protect you from them, if you protect them for me."

He tilted his head to the side, staring at her. She watched his mind working over her words, and brought his hand to her lips. "I'll be your restraint," she said, placing a kiss on his palm. "I promise I'll never ask you to teach me."

He sighed, nodding his head as the tension left his body. He pulled her hand up to his lips and then pressed it against his heart.

"Why me?" he asked, sending her question back to her on a quiet puff of air.

She gave him a watery smile. "Because you _did_ make me feel protected. That's something I haven't felt since I was eleven. More than that, you made me _feel_." She laid her head down on his shoulder. "It's been so long since I've felt anything but anger. What you make me feel is priceless." She swiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks. "And don't tell anyone in there, but I really do like feeling protected. It's a bit addictive, now that I've tasted it." She looked back at him. "So are you."

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest, and carefully draped his arm around her. He pulled the knife back out of the rock and shifted closer to her. "I will protect you, Hermione, and I'll protect them, but you'll have to tell me how."

They sat that way in silence, listening to the rustling of the grass in the breeze and the murmuring of the sluggish river behind them until the sun started to set.

:

It was mid-winter's day when the Muggles poured out of the forest and surrounded the cave entrance.

They'd finally worked themselves up into a fighting rage over the strangers to the east. Testimony from those that had sacked Hogsmeade had mixed with rumor, religion, a shortage of game, and superstition to whip them into a killing frenzy.

All they found was a woman in her twenties, standing on the hill above the entrance. Just beyond her, a man dressed in billowing black robes stood near a stone engraved with the name, Arthur.

The Muggles snarled in frustration to find only the two unarmed people. They were sure the rest had to be hiding further down in the caves and were angry that the element of surprise had been blown.

Words were exchanged, terms were offered and sneered at, and finally, one angry man had fired a shot.

The man in black had raised his hand and the lead ball smashed through ten skulls before he lowered it. Another took aim, but after being enveloped in a flash of amber light, he'd turned his gun and shot himself in the face with it.

Again, the woman offered her terms, and again they were refused.

She shook her head sadly and stepped to the side.

The man behind her raised his arms and burst into emerald flame. He shouted, and the metal in the Muggles' hands began to glow. They threw their weapons down, scrambling back as the black powder started to explode.

When the dead began to rise up off the ground and shuffle after them with clawed hands, they fled and didn't stop screaming until they reached their makeshift village.

When the man and the woman came, bringing their people with them on the first day of spring as promised, the village surrendered without a fight.

So did the next one.

And the one after that…

:

Hermione stood up and rubbed at her back. She'd been sitting too long, going over the new laws that had been ratified by the council. She'd only vetoed one.

As she'd taken over larger and larger areas, eventually holding sway over most of Scotland, she'd gathered those lords and commoners with government experience. She'd added the clans that had a strong union and cobbled together a working government with herself as the final say in everything.

She became a mostly benevolent tyrant who slowly pushed them toward total independence, always aiming for the day when the magic would come back and the Wizarding World would fade away again. She settled disputes among them and kept watch over their interim constitution until the day when the old one would be put back in place. Each year brought more land, more laws, and more people back to the concept of civility. A committee had been sent south to figure out how to connect with the remnants of the Monarchy rumored to be holding out in the burned-out wreckage of London. They hadn't returned yet, but she didn't expect them until summer.

All in all, there had been excellent progress. The Muggles in Scotland were making great strides in restoring their sanity.

Better than the magical folk. Those she still ruled with an iron fist. Her attempts at recreating a Wizengamot had fallen flat, and every few months Severus had to put down a new 'Dark Lord.' It hadn't taken very long for word to spread that Dark Magic still worked. Fortunately, those that tried to use it were no match for the last of the Death Eaters.

Those wizards and witches that tried to access it had to struggle to control it. Severus made it dance to his will with ease—a fact that bred even more suspicion and distrust.

The magical community was trapped in utter turmoil. If she didn't restore some semblance of order, there would be chaos when the magic came back.

She wasn't the one to do it. They tolerated her because they were terrified of Snape, but outside of her small group of friends and advisors, they had no faith in her at all. She kept them all busy by making them write down their knowledge, distracting them with a crusade to restore what had been destroyed in the days after the Cataclysm. So much knowledge had been lost. She shook her head and sighed.

She stretched and walked over to a window, looking out over the town that had sprung up below the gates. They opened, wobbling slightly from inexpert repairs, and a small group of people came through, allowed entrance by the Muggles on watch. They had to be magical folk. The Muggles had a list of questions to ask that only a witch or a wizard would know. She peered at the small group, not recognizing them at all.

A new group then.

Each month brought another small band of survivors as word spread slowly throughout the UK. Each day, more people heard about the new state that had been carved out in the north. Word of its peace and prosperity ran one step behind the rumor that a powerful wizard and his fairy queen ruled over it all.

It was said that Merlin had been freed from his cave and had returned to bring the people back from the dark. The surviving wizards and witches that heard the rumor nearly always packed their things and began the pilgrimage back to Hogwarts immediately. The problem was, with only crude printing presses and no radio at all, word spread very slowly. England was still in chaos, and little word ever came out of Wales. Gossip was limited when people didn't trust each other.

She turned away from the window when the door opened. Severus came in and placed a stack of parchment down on her desk before coming over and wrapping his arms around her.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Requests for admission into the Realm by another four communities. Lennox and Athol passed them on to us. They have their hands busy with all the conflicting claims in North Tayside. Minerva and Filius already vetted them, and they meet the requirements."

"How many didn't?"

"Only one. They refuse to give up slavery. They called it by some other euphemism, but our sources say it's just semantics."

Hermione shook her head. "How could we have devolved so much in only eight years?" She scowled. "Add them to the list of possibilities for the spring campaign. Let the Muggle council decide if they want us to wipe them out. I hope they do."

Snape chuckled darkly. "'You're always so bloodthirsty at this stage," he said, rubbing her swelling belly. "Come spring, you won't want to get off the couch."

She laughed. "True, and I won't let you leave without me either. Perhaps we should let the council use their own army. They need to start getting used to doing things without us, anyway, if Septima's measurements are correct."

"They are," he said, kissing her forehead and hugging her. "We've run it twice more. The magnetosphere is definitely showing signs of an increased rate of stabilization. It's only a matter of years now, not decades. More measurements will allow for a better estimate."

Hermione swallowed and dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Then we definitely need to find a wandmaker. I also want to—"

"Hermione..." His voice sounded strange, and she pulled away to see him looking out the window over her shoulder.

She twisted around in his arms and looked back down at the group that had come through the gate. Now that they were closer, they appeared to be two men and three woman, all bundled against the cold. They had three children with them, two toddlers and possibly an eleven-year-old. She was about to ask her husband what had bothered him about them, when one of the men looked up at the tower.

Light glinted off the glasses he wore under his hood. She looked at the woman next to him and saw a long, auburn braid escaping from under several layers of shawls.

Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, God. Severus, do you think?"

He nodded to her and let her go.

She turned and raced out of the room.

She'd just reached the Entrance Hall when the huge doors were pushed open and in walked Harry Potter. Ginny, Fleur Weasley, Ron, and an unfamiliar woman, clutching Ron's hand like a lifeline, were arrayed behind him like an honor guard.

She kept her hands pressed to her mouth as her vision blurred. When her knees started to buckle, Harry was there to catch her, arms wrapped tight around her.

"We knew it had to be you," he said in a broken voice. "As soon as we heard the rumor, we knew it was you. If there was anyone that could have found a way to dig us out, it had to be our Hermione."

She sobbed as Ron and Ginny closed in and surrounded her.

_Harry_. He'd always been a symbol of hope. He was just what their people needed to rally them.

She lifted her head and looked up the stairs to where her husband was standing next to a beaming Minerva.

He caught her eyes and nodded to her, and her heart swelled nearly to bursting.

:

~fin~

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><p>And there you go. I do hope you enjoyed. Also, a reminder. With the new format at ff.n, I cannot reply to reviews if your PMs are set to private. You know, FYI, and all that.<p> 


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